We Can Has Victory
by Chuckney
Summary: In a universe in which Standard has replaced with the language of lolcatz, the Enterprise comes under attack from Klingons - over 9000, to be precise. A good ground knowledge of Internet memes is useful for reading!


A/N: Written for a prompt on the Star Trek kink meme. It was not a kinky prompt at all, merely cracky.

Pairings: None

Rating: PG

Length:

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I making any money from this.

Summary: The Enterprise is under attack – from Internet memes. The prompt was that all Federation Standard be replaced with Lolcatz or Netspeak, and this evolved from there.

These sites are useful for finding out about memes or Netspeak:

/

.com/

***

"Klingon warbird delurking off the starboard side!" came Sulu's panicked voice.

"Whut?!" The Captain leant out of his chair and stood, poised for action, staring at the vessel dissolving into visible range before them.

"Oh noes," Sulu gritted his teeth, "shields still down from _other_ Klingon skirmish." Then: "We is being fired on, Captain!"

"This is not made of awesome."

The scarlet ray leaped across the gulf of space between the two ships; the Enterprise rocked under the force of impact. Instantly, every screen on board flashed with the nauseating image of cutesy, cerulean blue alien creatures of unidentifiable origin.

Angrily, Kirk hailed the warbird. "WTF is your game?"

"WTF is _your_ game, Federation vessel?" The Klingon commander leered unpleasantly. "I iz G'nakh, leader of the Klingon Resistance. We herd you liek… mudkips." They laughed horribly.

"Don't feed the trolls, Captain." warned Uhura with careful tones. G'nakh laughed again.

"We're in your galaxy, spamming you with /b/."

Spock stepped forward. "You have just acted in direct violation of Starfleet Internet Directives 1 and 2." His measured voice rang out coldly across the bridge.

"Your rules, they are meaningless to us, Enterprise!"

"Nu-uh." Kirk was putting on his best threatening deathglare. "We be in Federation territory."

"Federation territory?" G'nakh he leaned in closer to the monitor, fury etched in every ridge of his face. "_THIS IS SPARTA_!" He looked away the screen and barked a command in Klingon.

Chekov's fingers skirted over his control panel. "They iz locking phasers on us, Keptain!"

Kirk's eyes narrowed. "Tiem for srs bsns."

At that, the Klingons began to look distinctly worried. Kirk made a brusque order to the helm.

"Arms photon torpedoes and fire at will."

Now the Klingons were running frantically all over their bridge, shouting commands back and forth. Trust a Klingon to attack a ship without first realising its weapons could punch through your shield like a comet through a dust cloud.

"Negotiation, Jim." stated Spock with faint disapproval. "You're doing it wrong."

Kirk ignored him completely, grinning instead at the Klingons' panic. "Cry moar, noobs."

As the torpedoes ripped through the weak shields and the outer hull, the warbird exploded spectacularly, taking its nefarious crew with it. For a moment there was calm, until a great shared happiness bubbled up through everyone standing on the bridge at the vanquishing of the enemy; Kirk high fived the nearest Ensign as he proclaimed:

"Red Alert are cancelled, plz, Mister Chekov."

"_Let me break out the lmaonade, Cap'n_." came Scotty's triumphant laughter through the intercom. _"We sure pwned them."_

"IAWTC wery much, Meester Scott."

"_Or we can has real alchohol as a celebration, Cap'n?"_ The engineer sounded hopeful.

Kirk smiled indulgently. "We can has, Scotty. In fact –"

With a scrabble at the communications panel, Uhura interrupted him, her voice tense, one hand to her earpiece that looked to be delivering unpleasant news. "We has an urgent message from Starfleet Command on channel one, sir."

"Onscreen nao."

Bridge crew all turned to look at the viewscreen, their faces set and grim at the thought of what new disaster might require their asssistance. But as they watched for the image of the Admiral, there appeared instead a strange ginger man in Ancient Terran clothes, and the first few bars of an all-too-familiar melody spilled out over the bridge.

"_We're no strangers to lo-o-ove..."_

There was an assembled chorus of laughter, wearied sighs and mumbled death threats. The Captain slumped forward in his chair. "Iz ded." he groaned.

"Illogical. The very fact that you are able to speak instantly negates any possibility of your demise, Captain."

"Spock?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"STFU."


End file.
